In the Angel's Name
by CrazyCabernet
Summary: When Cas tells them to go to New York with no explanation, Sam and Dean don't know what to expect. When they get there, they find themselves surrounded by hunters with weird markings and are unexpectedly pulled into the fight to protect a "Sighted mundie" with a unique gift, but it's not easy, especially with Jace and Dean always arguing. And just how does Becca fit into the mess?
1. Prologue

**AN: Um, okay, so...does this really need any explanation? No? Good, didn't think so. Carry on, my wayward sons and daughters, Nephilim, Downworlders, mundies, bitches, jerks, assbutts, idjits, whatever you prefer to be called. XD**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody, but, DAMN, do I wish I owned Jared Padalecki...*dreamy fangirl sigh***

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Sam was getting restless. He and Dean had been on the road for...well, actually, he didn't know anymore. He'd stopped bothering to keep track somewhere around the fourth or fifth hour. Total, that was. They weren't driving nonstop, of course; they still had to stop for gas, snacks, and bathroom breaks from time to time. But altogether, he had no idea how long they'd been driving. It had been a while since the last time they'd stopped, and Sam's butt was starting to feel numb, not to mention the fact that it was taking all his self-restraint to keep himself from putting his feet up on the dash just for the sake of being able to stretch his legs out and get rid of the kinks in his knees, which he could practically _feel_ getting worse with each passing minute.

They hadn't spoken in a while, either. Not because they didn't want to or anything, it was just that they had run out of things to talk about not long after leaving the city limits of Washington D.C. however many hundred or so miles back that had been. So they'd just been spending these last several hours sitting in comfortable silence together, broken only by the sound of AC/DC. Where were they going? New York. Why? Because Castiel had told them to. No explanation, no further instructions, just "You need to go to New York. I can't go with you, but I'll meet back up with you once you're there. Manhattan." followed by giving Sam a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it. That was it. That had been all he'd said. They'd turned away from him and towards each other for one brief moment to exchange confused looks, and when they'd turned back around, Dean's mouth already open to ask a question, Castiel had been gone. Having no reason not to, they'd stocked up on snacks, gassed up the Impala, and set out for the Big Apple.

"Why New York?" Sam asked, breaking the silence for the first time in who-knew-how-long. "I mean, of all the places he could've sent us to, why New York? And what about that not being able come with us, what was that all about, huh?" Dean shook his head slightly. "Hell if I know," he said without taking his eyes off the road. "Demons on Broadway, maybe?" Dean laughed at his own joke, but Sam didn't crack a grin. "I'm serious, Dean," he said, "I mean...it could be anything, if you really think about it. Leviathans, Knights of Hell, Acheris, hellhounds, ghosts, vampires, crazy god—"

"Yeah, okay, Sam, I get it, you can shut up now," Dean interrupted. "Sorry," Sam muttered. He sighed. "I'm just...I can't help but wonder..."  
"Yeah, well, you won't gotta wonder for much longer," Dean said, "look." Sam turned, reflexively leaning forward a little in his seat when he saw the distinctive New York skyline in the distance. "Cas," he muttered, "what are you up to now...?"

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**AN: Short prologue is short! And kinda weird, I know. But I've already gotten what for me is pretty far on this, actually. I just started the third chapter, so...yeah. I'll go ahead and post the first and second for you, just let me get them uploaded and all that good stuff, so...yeah. :) And I'll have plenty of time to work on this since I am officially out of school for the summer! And since Supernatural is going to be one of our summer shows this year, I'll probably be spurred into motion on this every morning just by the very sound of the Impala's engine on my TV, lol!  
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**AND I MADE THE COVER IMAGE MYSELF! I used the Candybar dollmakers on eLouai, then put them all on a single document in my paint program and added their names and the story title. I'm rather proud of it, so if you could just take a couple minutes to admire it plzkthxbai. n_n**


	2. Welcome to the Institute

**AN: Um...yeah. So...I hope you like it? lol, for once in my life, I've got nothing to say, haha!**

**Disclaimer: Oh, sweeties, if there's one thing I can guarantee you right now, it's that if I had even the smallest claim to any of this, Malec never would've broken up and I would spend my free time cuddling with Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins. **

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"What the hell?" Dean said for what was probably about the nineteenth or twentieth time in the last five or ten minutes. They'd driven through the city in traffic that was infuriatingly slow, and after driving up and down countless streets in an increasingly frustrating search for the address Cas had given them, they'd finally found it, only to discover that it was an empty lot surrounded by a gothic-looking wrought iron fence. Behind the fence, however, was absolutely nothing, unless you counted old concrete with grass growing through it as something. Otherwise, though, there was nothing there. After rolling the windows down, Dean had turned the engine off, and they had been sitting there like that for about ten, fifteen minutes or so.

"What the hell?" Dean repeated. _Twenty,_ Sam thought with a slight roll of his eyes. "First he tells us to come here all the way from freaking Michigan, doesn't even tell us why, disappears before we can even ask anything, and when we finally get here, the damn address is no damn good! That son of a bitch! What a waste of time! He knows perfectly well that we are too damn busy to be driving all over the damn country going to whatever worthless, empty lot he decides he wants to send us to, he knows that we—"

"It's not empty, and it's definitely not worthless."

Both boys nearly jumped out of their skin, then twisted around, only to find none other than Castiel himself sitting casually in the backseat as if he'd been there the entire trip. As soon as his heart rate had gone back to normal, Dean exploded on him. "Castiel, you no good son of a bitch! What's the big idea, sending us on some wild goose chase like that, huh?! We've got more important—What the—? Hey! Hey, where do you think you're going?! Get back here, Cas! Cas! Castiel! Dammit, Cas, I'm serious, get your ass back here before I—"

Having gotten out of the car to follow Castiel, Dean suddenly found his path blocked by a man who quite clearly had Asian heritage, and was dressed in clothes flamboyant enough to have come from the closet of Adam Lambert himself. Otherwise, he seemed perfectly normal, except for the fact that there was something about him that neither Sam nor Dean could quite put their finger on that was a bit...well...off.

"And where," the man said, "do you think you're going, Chin Dimple? You and Mop Top over there sure do seem in a hurry. What's the rush? Why not stay here and talk a while, hm?"

"Bane!" Castiel said as he reappeared from where ever he had gone, walking up to the man from behind and bringing a hand down on his shoulder. "Harass your own hunters, leave mine alone." Smirking, he added, "Especially Dean here. He'll punch you in the face and knock some teeth out if you're not careful." The other man threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, just like Jace!" he said loudly. "How perfect is this? Oh, you two will either get along wonderfully or clash even more than Camille and Raphael! Well, this will certainly be entertaining, to say the least. Let me tag along, will you, Cassie, please? Hell, who am I kidding, I don't need your permission, I can go if I want, and I do, so I think I will!"

Dean and Sam looked at each other, each of them raising an eyebrow, then turning slowly to Castiel. "'Cassie?'" Sam echoed as a smirk began creeping onto his face and Dean repressed laughter. Castiel frowned and shook his head. As he turned around and motioned at the brothers to follow, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Assbutt warlock."

Halfway up the walk that neither of the Winchesters had realized was there before, Castiel stopped suddenly, and both the hunters very nearly rammed directly into him from behind as they neared him. Before either of them could say "What the hell, Cas," the fallen angel spoke. "Tell me, boys," he said, "what do you see in front of you right now?" Sam and Dean looked at the emptiness waiting for them up ahead. "Nothing," they replied at the same time. Castiel and the flamboyantly dressed man both chuckled. "Look again," the former said. "But this time, _really_ look. Take your blindfolds off and open the curtains in front of your eyes, and _look,_ you two, _look."_

Sam and Dean both squinted. Sam kind of tilted his head to one side a little bit, both of them concentrating intensely on the empty lot in front of them. Then, slowly, a building started to appear right before their eyes. It was an old gothic cathedral that went perfectly with the wrought iron fence around the lot.

"Woah," Dean said bluntly.

"Boys," Castiel said, "welcome to the New York Institute, meeting place of the city's Conclave."  
"Conclave," Sam muttered. His eyes widened suddenly. "Conclave!" he repeated, louder this time. "Nephilim! I came across some stuff about them once when I was looking some things up! An angel gave his own blood to make these people, Dean. Ra...Ray..."

"Raziel," Cas said. "Very good, Sam."  
"Okay, so what does that have to do with us?" Dean asked as they came to a stop in front of the doors. "And who exactly is the Flaming Fag over there, anyway?" The 'flaming fag' in question cleared his throat. "Actually," he said, "I'm not a flaming fag, I'm a freewheeling bisexual, thank you very much. And I happen to be the High Warlock of Brooklyn. My name is Magnus Bane. Ah...I see...so you're the famous Dean Winchester I've heard so much about. Which means that you must be Sam. Charmed, I'm sure. Well, allow me to explain just what the Nephilim have got to do with you. I can't believe Castiel's never told you this before, but...ah, well. Not much to be done about that, I suppose, is there? I'll fix it right now, though, so no worries.

"The...I suppose you could call it the 'slang term,' the 'casual name,' perhaps...The casual name for Nephilim is Shadowhunters. Like your brother said, created when the blood of Raziel was mixed in the Mortal Cup with the blood of a mortal man named Johnathon Shadowhunter, which is, obviously, where the casual name comes from. Now, Sam, did you ever happen to come across anything about what it is this race does? And yes, race. They are truly, I kid you not, classified as an entirely different race than the rest of humanity. They refer to normal people as mundanes, or mundies. Being half-angel, they are different than everyone else. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the subject at hand. Sam?"

Sam thought for a moment, digging through his memory to see if he could turn anything up on the subject. "Something similar to what we do," he said finally. Magnus clapped slowly. "More like something exactly like what you do," he said. "Only...not quite. You don't have any of the Angel's blood, no Marks, no steles, no seraph blades...and, of course, no Jace Herondale." He snickered as if this was amusing to him in some way. "No...who?" Sam asked. Magnus only smirked in response. "Oh, you'll see," he replied. "You'll see..."

Turning on the heel of his boot to face the doors, he threw himself against them and began to pound his fists against the wood in an overly-dramatic fashion. "ALEXAAAAAANDEEEEEEEER!" he shouted, throwing his head back. Sam and Dean could see the muscles in his neck tense up as they strained beneath the surface of his skin like cords. "ALEXANDER, OPEN UP! IT'S MAGNUS! ALEXAAAAANDEEEEEEEER! ALEXAAAAAAA—"

The door opened, sending Magnus tumbling backwards, arms flailing as they spun in circles, then, as his foot came down in a spot that left his heel dangling over empty air between steps, he stumbled backwards down the stairs before finally ending up sprawled on the ground at the foot of the steps with his butt right at the base of the first one and his legs actually on the stairs. Sam and Dean both burst into uncontrollable laughter. The black-haired teenage boy who was hanging halfway out the open door was smirking and shaking his head as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. "You'll never learn, will you, Magnus?" he said. Magnus groaned, rubbing his head as he sat up. "Good to see you, too, Alec," he said.

When the boy opened his eyes, both Winchesters were struck by their remarkable shade of bottle-glass blue. "Oh, look," he said, "you dragged Castiel here with you. Lovely."

"I did no such thing, " Magnus said, rejoining them at the top of the steps as he brushed himself off. "He showed up of his own accord trailing the famous Winchester brothers behind him." The boy turned his attention to Sam and Dean, his face lighting up as he stepped all the way out the door. "Oh, so you're Sam and Dean," he said. "Jeez, it's about time Cas brought you around, we've all about gone insane from hearing about you and wondering when the hell we'd actually get to meet you. My name is Alexander Lightwood, but I go by Alec. I see you've already met my crazy boyfriend Magnus. Eh, he's not so bad once you get used to him, just give it a while. Well, everyone's waiting upstairs, so come on in, I guess. And, uh...welcome to the Institute."

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**AN: For some reason, this image of Magnus throwing himself at the doors of the Institute and pounding on them while he screamed at the heavens popped into my head and wouldn't go away, and this is the solution my brain came up with, lol. **

**And does ANYBODY ELSE think that Magnus was originally described as an ASIAN ADAM LAMBERT? COME ON, I KNOW I CAN'T BE ALONE ON THIS!**


	3. Golden Boy

**AN: Okay, so this chapter ended up being REALLY long without me meaning for it to be. Everybody just sort of grabbed it out of my hands and took off running like, "LOL, CAN'T CATCH US, HAHAHAHAHA!" and so I had to unexpectedly go chasing after them before I was able to wrap this up. "Hey, let's shove it in the trunk of the Impala and DRIVE!" "I'll climb this tree with it!" "NAW, BITCH, LET'S FRIGGIN' PUT IT ON THE FRIGGIN' ROOF OF SOME RANDOM FRIGGIN' BUILDING, TROLOLOLOLOLOL!"**

**Me: e_e"**

**Disclaimer: Yuh-nope.**

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"Iz, no, no, no! Left, dammit, go left!_ Left!_ Your _other_ left! God dammit, just give me the fucking controller, you dumbass!"  
"Piss off, Herondale! Either go get your own or wait your turn! Hey, what do you think you're—_FUCK!_ Jace, you dipshit, look what you made me do! I'm gonna fucking kill you, blondie!"

"You gotta catch me first! ALEC, YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND BETTER MOVE IF YOU DON'T WANNA GET RUN OVER, BUDDY!"  
The teenage boy that had vaulted himself up from the couch was quite a sight. He was all gold-and-tan like a lion, and his blond hair fell into his eyes as he flung himself over the back of the couch and towards the doorway, where Alec caught him by the elbow before he could get out of the room. As he turned his head to look at the other boy, the new angle allowed Sam to get a good look at his eyes. They were wide at the moment, and there was a wild look in them, but that wasn't what caught his attention. What really made him do a double take was the color. They were a tawny golden color that went perfectly with the rest of him. On their way up here, Dean had quietly pointed something out to Sam; the strange tattoo on the back of Alec's hand in thick black ink that resembled an eye. Now, glancing over the golden boy, Sam noticed the same tattoo on his hand, as well. And not only that, there were other strange tattoos in the same thick black ink on other parts of the golden boy's body. If Alec had more of his own, they were covered up by the long-sleeved shirt he had on under his short-sleeved one.

"Give me back my arm, Lightwood," the golden boy said, snapping Sam out of his thoughts. "Quickly now, before your sister decides she's not going to wait until you're out of the way to murder me. Oh, look at that! You've brought a fallen angel and a pair of mundies with you! Or is this one Magnus's doing? It seems more like something he'd do. Girls, look! Magnus has brought Castiel to us, and a couple of mundies to boot!"

The two girls in the room turned their attention on Sam and Dean, one of them looking up from what appeared to be a sketchbook while the other reluctantly stopped giving the blond boy a death glare in order to look at the Winchesters. "They're not mundies," Castiel and Alec said at the same time. "Jinx!" the blond boy shouted, the burst into laughter as Alec released his arm. He turned and went back into the room, ignoring the glare he was getting from the black-haired girl as he went over to where the redhead was sitting and squeezed himself into the space beside her on the chair she was in, his arms going to circle her as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Look like mundies to me," he said in a half-mumble, quickly becoming very absorbed in watching the redhead do whatever it was she was doing.

"Alec, dear, control your brother, would you, please?" Magnus drawled, plopping unceremoniously onto the couch and stretching out his long legs across the length of it. "I've hardly been here five minutes, and he's already getting on my nerves." Alec shook his head, and Dean wondered vaguely how often this sort of thing went on around here. "Uh, Sam, Dean," Alec said, "just ignore him for now and have a seat where ever you want. Izzy, turn the game off, or at least pause it."

As they moved into the room with Castiel, both Winchesters noticed that it wasn't just Alec and the blond boy with the strange tattoos; both girls had them, too, and as they passed the black-haired girl, there was a brief instant where the angle of the light allowed them to catch a glimpse of odd white scars all over the surface of her skin along with the tattoos.

"I am as innocent as you in this, Jace," Magnus said suddenly. "Castiel is the guilty party here. Oh, sure, just blame the warlock for everything, why not? Oh, wait. That's only Pretty Boy, for the most part, I forgot. Apologies to the rest of you, my bad." Dean frowned, his brow creased in confusion. "Warlock?" he echoed. Magnus sat up and twisted around to face the brothers, his eyes wide and wild. They were a green-yellow color, but the remarkable thing was that they looked like the eyes of a cat; no whites, only irises and slit pupils. "Yes," he said, "warlock. What did you think, that I was a Shadowhunter? I'm not Marked, and I can't open the doors of the Institute, so that's out. Mundane? Unless I was Sighted, I would know nothing of Downworld or Shadowhunters, or even what you boys are. So the only option left would have to be a Downworlder. A faerie is out since I don't care to associate myself with the Seelie Court, or even the Unseelie Court. Vampire's out since I can walk in daylight, unless, of course, I was a Daylighter like our dear friend Simon, but none of us are really sure what exactly made him a Daylighter in the first place, so how could I do the same for myself? And besides, I wouldn't be able to enter the Institute because it's on consecrated ground. Werewolf? Just because I consider Luke Garroway a friend and ally, that doesn't mean I would take orders from him. The only type left is a warlock, so that would have to be it, now, wouldn't it? I see the questions in your eyes. Don't worry. That's why you're here. To recieve answers. First, however, I believe a few introductions are in order, don't you agree?"

There were several beats of silence before anyone spoke again, and when they did, Magnus gave the Winchesters a subtle smirk before going back to his lounging position. "He's right," Castiel said. "Jace, girls, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, the ones I've told you about. Boys, this is Alec's _parabatai_ and adoptive brother Jace, their sister Isabelle, and Clarissa Fairchild."

"Clary," the redheaded girl that Castiel had called Clarissa said. "I prefer Clary over Clarissa. Call me Clary." Meanwhile, Jace was smirking at the Winchesters in an odd way. "What're you looking at, Golden Boy?" Dean asked finally. Jace's shoulders trembled as if he were laughing silently, and he shook his head just ever-so-slightly. "So _you're_ the famous Winchesters that we've all heard so much about," he said. "Hm. Well, I must say that with everything Castiel's said about you, I was expecting something a little more...well...shall we say...up to the task."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded. Oddly enough, everyone seemed to go still. Clary's pencil, or whatever it was she had in her hand, went still on her paper as she lifted her eyes. They locked with Sam's just long enough for him to see that they were a beautiful shade of green, then she turned to look at Jace where he sat beside her, staring directly across the room at Sam and Dean, that odd smirk still on his face. "I'll show you," he said finally, his voice definitely not at normal volume, but not entirely what might be called quiet, either. As he stood up, the brothers got their first really good look at him.

He was maybe sixteen or seventeen, eighteen at the very most, and he definitely had a good build. Tall and lean with muscles that you could see flex and shift beneath the surface of his skin as he moved; it was strangely fascinating to watch those muscles tighten and untighten, becoming cords and ropes when they tensed up, then vanishing from sight once more when they loosened again. He wasn't quite thin or tall enough to be called a beanpole, but he was certainly pretty skinny. It was no wonder he'd been able to hurtle himself over the back of the couch the way he had; he was undeniably made for doing exactly that sort of thing, and judging from the fact that he'd had such an easy time doing it, if Sam and Dean had to guess, they'd say that he'd had some kind of formal training in the art of such stunts.

He crossed the room until he was standing directly in front of the brothers, at which point he held one of his arms out, allowing the boys to see that like Isabelle, he had white scars intermingled among his tattoos, and now that they were closer, they could also see that the scars, strangely enough, had specific shapes to them. Most of them were so faint that they were hardly visible, but there was no denying that these had not happened at random or on accident. Someone—or some_thing—_had put them there on purpose, and had known exactly what he, she, or it was aiming for prior to doing it.

"You see these designs, these scars?" he said in a low voice. "Runes. Marks of the Angel Raziel. Only Shadowhunters can bear them. To attempt to Mark a mundie would mean either death or transformation into what we call Forsaken. To Mark a Downworlder, Magnus, for example, would be certain death. They help us do our job, which is to hunt demons and act as the police of Downworld. Stealth, Clairvoyance, Soundless, Night-Vision, _mnemosyne, iratze,_ Dexterias, _fortis, enkeli,_ Courage...and this one, _parabatai._ And the scars. These are the remainders of Marks that have served their purpose and faded, from injuries healed by _iratzes._ To be a Shadowhunter and have no Marks...unless your parents have raised you away from this lifestyle, there is no such thing as a a Runeless Nephilim. You have no Marks, no scars...not even the Voyance Rune on the back of your hands. All Shadowhunters have the Voyance Rune, it's permanant, there to help with steadiness. How can you call yourselves demon hunters if you don't even have the Voyance Rune?"

"We can discuss everyobody's Marks and lack thereof later, " Castiel said quickly, stopping things before someone got unexpectedly punched in the face. "Right now, we should be discussing the reason I brought Sam and Dean here in the first place." Dean's head whipped in Cas's direction. "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask, what the hell's the deal with that, anyway?" he demanded. Castiel held up a hand. "Where is she?" he said to Jace, who made a motion that was halfway between a nod and an upwards jerk of the chin. "Probably in the greenhouse," he said. "She's been going up there a lot lately. Either it's relaxing for her, or she is really into plants for some reason." Clary laughed lightly and shook her head. Jace smiled at her, even though she was looking at what she was doing instead of at him. "I'll go get her," he said. With that, he walked over to Clary, planted a quick kiss on the top of her head, then left the room.

Almost as soon as he was gone, Isabelle started making kissing noises at Clary, whose head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Hey!" she cried. "Isabelle, cut it out! Like you and Simon are any different!" Whatever that meant, it effectively shut Isabelle up. Sam chuckled, and even Dean couldn't repress a bit of an amused grin. "What are you doing over there, anyway?" Sam asked. Clary looked up. "This," she said, turning the sketchbook around to reveal an unfinished drawing of what appeared to be Jace. It was a bit hard to tell for certain because of where he was positioned in relation to where she'd put the light source, plus his head was lowered, which meant that his hair was hanging in his face. He didn't have a shirt on, only a pair of low-slung jeans, and his arms and torso were covered in Marks. Each hand was tightly gripping the hilt of a Marked blade, and on top if it all, there was a pair of magnificent angel wings sprouting from his back.

Dean's eyes became saucers, and Sam's jaw dropped in awe. This girl was what, sixteen years old? Where the hell had she learned to make things like that with nothing but paper and a pencil? Magnus had his eyes closed as he lounged with his arms behind his head, but a smirk that seemed a mixture of satisfaction and smugness appeared on his face as if he could sense how impressed the brothers were at the moment and it was hardly a surprise to him.

Peering at it from her spot on the floor, Isabelle spoke up. "You drew him with wings again, Clary," she said. Clary lowered the sketchbook and turned it back towards herself, letting it rest in her lap as she stared at it, pushing some hair behind her ear. "I know," she said simply. "It's because that's how he is in my dreams a lot of the time. Even now. He's almost always got wings. The feathers are usually white tipped with gold, but sometimes they're tipped with red. There was even a time when one was white tipped with gold and the other had the same colors, but they were reversed, so it was gold tipped with white. I saw you and Alec with wings once, too, Izzy. Yours were tipped with purple, and Alec, yours had blue tips, and...I don't know why...but you both had a few black feathers mixed in with the white. But when the light hit them at certain angles, I could see that they weren't actually black so much as they were...iridescant...they were beautiful, but...I didn't really understand why they were like that."

She looked up suddenly, and for the second time, her eyes locked with Sam's. "Last night," she said, "I saw Hope in my dream. And there was a boy with her, but he was more of a man than a boy, really. I didn't recognize him at the time, but...I think...it might've been you, Sam. You had wings, too, just like Jace, only yours were black at the top, and that faded into white, and then the tips were silver. Do you have a tattoo on your chest that looks sort of like a sun? Right about here?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other, then at Clary. Sam undid the top couple of buttons on his shirt and pulled the fabric aside to reveal his ant-possession tattoo. "We both have it," he said. "And it's not a sun. I mean, it looks like one, I guess, but that's not what it is. It's a symbol that prevents demonic possession." Clary nodded as if Sam had merely confirmed something she already knew rather than told her something she hadn't previously had any knowledge of. It seemed as if she was about to say something, but before she had the chance, Jace was back, and he had somebody with him this time.

The girl stood a bit awkwardly in the doorway. She looked about the same age as Clary, with hair the color of singed wheat hanging over her shoulder in a braid with a sky blue ribbon woven into it. The slant of her eyes was pixie-like in a way, and their color was an unusual color that looked more silvery-lavender than grey. She had creamy skin and pearl pink lips. She was wearing quite an...interesting outfit that consisted of a blue shirt with yellow letters on it, but whatever the letters spelled was mostly obscured by her sherpa jacket and the arm that was raised to fiddle with the necklace she had on, the other hand clutching the collar of her jacket as she picked at the fuzz that lined the inside. She had brown crossbody bag that looked like it was made of the same material as the sherpa jacket, and the flap of it even had the same material that lined sherpa jackets. She had on a pair of light grey corduroy pinstripe pants that were rolled up to the knees in order to allow her pink combat boots to lace up to the knee the way they were supposed to comfortably. To top it all off, she had on a white belt with a gold buckle.

"Jace said you needed me to come down," she said, though it came out as more of a question than a statement. Her voice was like a meadowlark's with a subltle lilt to it, and it sounded inexplicably delicate, almost as if she would shatter like a porcelain doll if she were to so much as accidentally bump into a piece of furniture. She caught sight of the Winchesters and seemed to stiffen for a moment before turning her attention on them, eyes wide. "Who are they?" she asked. Dean stood up and held out his hand. "Dean Winchester," he said, "and this is my brother Sam." The girl looked at Dean's hand as if it were a foreign object for just a brief moment or so before she slowly reached out and took it. "Hope Cartwright," she said quietly. Her hand felt small in Dean's, and almost as fragile as her voice made her seem.

"Alright, so are we gonna get some answers now, or what?" Dean asked no one in particular as he sat back down and Hope put her bag down so she could squeeze herself into the small space between Magnus's feet and the arm of the couch, which turned out to be unnecessary, because as soon as he felt her there, the warlock repositioned his legs so that they were bent enough for her to be able to sit there without having to fold in on herself. "Thank you," she said.

"Okay, okay," Castiel said. He stood up, went over to snap his fingers a few times right next to Magnus's ear, then, after Magnus had roused himself and gotten up (though not without grumbled complaints), he stood facing the boys with his arms crossed. "You see that girl right there?" he said, pointing to the back of Hope's head. "What about her?" Sam asked. Castiel turned to Magnus and nodded. The warlock reached into the pocket of his jacket and drew out an old-fashioned pocket watch. He stood behind Hope and dangled it in front of her. After a moment, she raised her head and, when she saw it, snatched it out of his hand, gripping it tightly as if it was her everything.

"William," she blurted out suddenly. "William Owen Herondale. He had black hair...blue eyes...he was a Shadowhunter, and he lived at the London Institute. He ran away from home and went there when he was twelve. He died when he was seventy-six years old in 1937...from old age...When he was seventeen, he married a warlock girl who was half-Nephilim named...Theresa...Theresa Gray. They had two children, Lucie and James. Their son was named after William's _parabatai._ He was...Welsh...and had two sisters named Ella and Cecily. Ella died when she was young, but Cecily married...Gabriel...Gabriel..."

Hope's grip on the pocketwatch loosened, her hands falling into her lap with the watch held in between her palms, her fingers forming a loose cage of sorts around it as she looked up at Magnus with wide eyes. "That's all there is," she said, her voice almost a whisper. Magnus smiled, leaning over to retrieve the watch. "You did a good job, Hope," he said as he dropped it back into his jacket pocket. "Gabriel's last name was Lightwood, by the way. I ought to know, seeing how I helped Will summon a demon that had put a fake curse on him. By the way, Jace, this is your great-great-great-grandfather's pocketwatch that I just gave her. And Alec, Isabelle, he was your great-great-great-uncle, you two are descended directly from Cecily and Gabriel. But anyway, just let me shut up now, we've got much more important things going on, I'll tell you three all about ol' Will and the gang later. Oh, that'll be loads of fun, I can't wait! Back to you, Cassie!"

Sam and Dean both had to repress laughter as Castiel rolled his eyes. "You give this girl any object," he said, "and she can tell you about its owner. It doesn't matter if they're dead, alive, whether she's met them or not. 'But what does that have do with us, Cas?' I'll tell you what it has to do with you. A power like that...people will want it. They'll try to take her and use her, it's inevitable. Someone has already tried to claim her, that's how she ended up here in the first place. She was lucky that Clary and Luke were in the vicinity when it happened, otherwise, well...who knows what might have happened to her?" Sam frowned questioningly in Clary's direction. "Luke is my mom's fiancé," she explained. "He's also the leader of one of the werewolf packs here in New York. He used to be Nephilim...until he was bitten, back before I was born."

Dean's gaze wandered almost involuntarily over to Hope. Her back was turned to him and Sam, and she had her head lowered as if there was something in her lap that she was fixated on. Her braid was hanging over one shoulder, and there were wisps of hair that had escaped hanging around her face. He couldn't explain it, but there was just something about her that was almost magnetic. He _wanted_ to help her with...whatever it was exactly that she needed help with, because it was clear now that Castiel hadn't brought them here to help the Nephilim so much as he'd brought them to help Hope Cartwright. Helping these...advanced hunters was merely part of what it was going to take to help Hope. He looked at Sam and saw his own feelings about the whole thing reflected back at him in his brother's eyes. "Alright," Sam said. "We'll help you guys out with this...whatever it is that's going on here."

"Oh, goody!" Magnus exclaimed, clapping his hands like a small child. "So, Cassie, shall I...?" Once again, Sam and Dean repressed laughter at the nickname, and Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes," he said after a moment. "Go and get her, bring her back here. And if you happen to run into Maryse, tell her we're all up here, would you?" Magnus nodded, bent over to kiss Alec's cheek, then turned on his heel and, with a flourish of his leather jacket—which fell to about mid-thigh—the warlock strutted—not walked, strutted—out of the room.

After he was gone, Sam jerked a thumb towards the doorway. "Is he always so..."  
"Flashy?" Clary suggested.  
"Out there?" Jace added.  
"Flamboyant?" Alec said.  
"Glamourous?" Isabelle threw out. "Fabulously dressed? Master of the guy-liner? Excellently—"

"We get it, Izzy," Alec interrupted quickly. Turning to Sam, he said, "Yes, yes, yes, and...depending on how you look at things, yes to Isabelle's stuff, too. He's crazy and owns more leather, buckles, glitter, and eyeliner than any one person probably _should_ own, but he's _my_ crazy, leather-clad, buckled up, glittery, covered-in-eyeliner warlock, and I like him just the way he was when I found him, thank you very much. Anyway, if you guys are gonna be staying here, you're gonna need bedrooms. The rooms here are all the same except for the ones that belong to permanent residents, albeit us. Clary's is a little less personalized, though, because she's only semi-permanent, but you get the picture. Feel free to do whatever you want to the rooms we give you, though. Put some pictures up, throw your favorite pillow on the bed, whatever. Just as long as you don't go and paint the walls and re-carpet the floor or anything like that. Otherwise, it doesn't matter to us what you do or don't do with 'em."

Clary flipped her sketchbook shut, gathered up her pencils, and jumped up. "I'll take them," she said. "I need to put this stuff back in my room, anyway, so I can just do that on the way to show them theirs. And, Jace, I'll meet you later, after I'm done?" Jace grinned and gave her a thumbs up in response. Isabelle stood up, too. "I'll come with you!" she cried. "I mean, I've gotta get ready for tonight, so I might as well just tag along since my room's on the way, also." Alec frowned at his sister. "But I thought Simon wasn't supposed to come get you until at least—"

"Well, hey, I've got to take a shower, don't I? And plus, I still haven't figured out what I'm going to wear or what I'm going to do with my hair or my make-up...Just because you go casual when you're out with Magnus doesn't mean we all go on dates in our jeans and t-shirts, Alec, jeez. And besides, have you _seen_ how tangled my hair is today?"

She reached up and released her hair from its rather messy bun. As soon as she removed whatever had been holding it in place, her hair tumbled down, reaching to the small of her back like an inky waterfall. Just as she'd said, it was tangled, but it didn't really seem as bad as she'd implied it was. Nevertheless, she put her hands on her hips as she raised a slender eyebrow in her brother's direction. "

See?" she said. "I mean, why do you think I had it in that bun? You know how I am about my hair, Alec, if it's not loose, it's either in some kind of braid, or pinned to the back of my head _neatly,_ not all funky and halfway loose and all wispy and stuff. The only reason I did that today was because I didn't feel like fighting to get the brush through this morning, so I figured that since I was going to take a shower, anyway, I might as well just wait and mess with it after the water's already smoothed it out for the most part. No offense, Clary," she added quickly. "I mean, I know that you do that sort of thing with your hair, and you're lucky enough to be one of those people who can pull that sort of thing off without looking like they just rolled out of bed that way, but my hair's just so long and I've got so much, it's so think, you know, I just can't do that and actually manage to look cute with it like you can, you know? Anyway, are we gonna show Sam and Dean their rooms or what? Come on, let's go!"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and darted out into the hall, poking her head back around the doorway after a moment. "Well? What are you waiting for? Come on already!" Clary looked at Dean, who looked at Sam, who shrugged at Clary, who shrugged at Dean, who shrugged back at her. Then, the brothers stood up and wordlessly followed Clary out into the hall, where Isabelle was waiting for them, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet as if she was attached to a wound-up spring of some kind.

As they walked, the girls told Sam and Dean some more about Shadowhunters, and they were even willing to open up about themselves. They learned that Clary's mother was born a Shadowhunter, but after the events of what the girls said was a long story that they wouldn't get into right then, she had left the Shadowhunters' home country of Idris and come to New York, where she became a painter and lived as a mundane. She told them about her soon-to-be step-father, Luke, the Nephilim-turned-werewolf who owned a bookstore that was attached to his house, and they learned that Simon was the name of the boy who had been Clary's best friend since practically forever, and that he was a vampire now, but for reasons that still weren't entirely clear, he was able to go out during the day unharmed, hence the term "Daylighter."

"And what about Jace?" Sam asked. "What's the deal there?" Clary and Isabelle looked at each other, then Clary sort of shrugged. "Well...what's there to tell?" she said. "I mean...he's Jace. He's...my boyfriend, and Izzy and Alec's adoptive brother. He's the only living Herondale as far as we're aware, and...he's...Jace. That's really all there is to it. What else is there to really say about him?"

"Well, like...is he always so...cocky?" Dean asked. The girls began to laugh suddenly. "C-Cocky, he says!" Isabelle sputtered, reaching for the wall behind her. "Jace...c-cocky! Oh, boy, you don't know the half of it! You think he was cocky back there? You ain't seen nothin' yet, you oughta see him in a fight! Wisecracks left and right, and...and...Ha-_ha!"_

"You wanna know about Jace?" Clary said after she'd recovered. "I'll tell you about Jace; Jace Lightwood is seventeen years old, he was born in Idris and lived there until he was ten, at which point he came to live here at the Institute with Alec and Isabelle's family. He and Alec are _parabatai,_ he's chivalrous, arrogant, one of our generation's very best Shadowhunters, he fights to relax himself, he's got a temper that he keeps in check most of the time by channeling it into fighting, training, and sarcasm. He's very passionate, and he never lies unless it's to protect someone he loves. He's got a small chip in one incisor tooth, and a star-shaped birthmark on his left shoulder. He's left-handed, knows how to play piano, he likes horses and being barefoot, speaks Romanian, Latin, Italian, and probably other languages, he hates liars, which is why he never lies except for good reason, he quotes literary passages a lot and has one to fit almost every occasion, and he hates ducks."

"Why does he hate ducks?" Sam asked. Clary and Isabelle both shrugged. "We're not sure," the latter said. "He says that he doesn't really know, either, he just always has. Maybe he had a bad experience with a duck when he was too young to remember? I dunno, it's just a thought I've had a few times in the past when the subject comes up in conversation, but who knows if it's actually the reason or not? It's a mystery that may never be solved."

"In the meantime," Clary said as they came to a stop. "Sam, this will be your room, and Dean, you'll be right next door in this room. This place can be kind of a maze, and a lot of these hallways look the same, so one way you can remember where your rooms are is to look around and see if there's anything about this specific hall that sets it apart from others. Like, for example, a stain or something in a certain shape or spot on the wall or floor, maybe a scratch on one of the doorways, that sort of thing. Or it could be a painting or something. And if either of you ever gets lost, don't hesitate to come find someone, we don't mind helping you out. If you guys need anything, come and find me. I'll be in my room, which in the hall just around that corner. It's the third door down on the left. I'd tell you where Izzy's room is, but she'll be in there throwing things around, and I kind of doubt that either of you would be very happy if you got hit with a flying shoe or if one of her bras landed on your head, so I'll just keep that particular location to myself for now. Anyway, we'll let you guys get settled in. See you later."

She and Isabelle turned and continued on down the hall, but they stopped before they got very far. "Oh!" Clary said. "And one more thing! We usually just get take-out for dinner from this place called Taki's. That cool with you guys?" Sam and Dean looked at each other, then at Clary, and Dean nodded. Clary flashed a smile. "Great! Oh, and Cas says that you really like pie, Dean, so I'll be sure to have who ever calls the order in get some for you."

Isabelle grabbed at her hand, and she turned, waving at the boys over her shoulder one more time as she and the taller girl half-ran down the hall, the patter of their bare feet on the floor mixing with the sounds of their voices as they talked and giggled. After they were gone, Dean turned to his brother and grinned. "I like her," he said. Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why, because she's getting you pie?" he asked sarcastically. Dean whacked the back of his shoulder, but Sam only laughed and shook his head as he opened the door to the room that would be his for an indefinite amount of time from now on.

* * *

**AN: Why DOES Jace hate ducks? Like, with Will, I seem to remember him saying something at one point about how the ducks in some park ate pieces of meat pies that he and Jem threw at them, and how they were "vicious little creatures not to be trusted" or something. Like, okay, I guess I can kind of see why WILL didn't like them, he stood there and watched them actually eat something with MEAT in it, but unless Jace had a similar experience or, like Izzy said, had a bad run-in with a duck when he was too young to remember, what reason does HE have?**

**"It's a mystery that may never be solved."**

**Well, now that I've figured out where all the missing socks go, I guess I can replace that with the question of Jace's hatred of ducks on my List of Great Universal Mysteries that Need Solving.**


	4. Becca

**AN: Okay, so this chapter has a bit of a surprise in it. You know how in the summary, I mentioned a girl named Becca? This is where she comes in. And guess what? SHE'S NOT AN OC! She's one of Cassie's characters, not mine! **

**"But Maggie, that makes no sense! Cassie has never mentioned anybody named Becca in TMI OR TID, so how can she belong to Cassie?"  
**

**Well, you'll find out soon enough! Read on, my wayward sons/daughters/Nephilim/Downworlders/mundies/assbu tts/bitches/jerks/idjits!**

**Disclaimer: Hope is mine, but that's it. Otherwise, I would be cuddling with Jared Padalecki right now. :(**

* * *

Dinner was eaten seated around the island counter in the kitchen. Isabelle didn't join them, because she left for her date with Simon before the food was brought in, and, she said, would be having dinner at a restaurant with him, anyway. Not long after the food arrived, a noise that sounded like church bells reverberated through the building, but Sam and Dean were the only ones who paused in the middle of taking the food containers out of the bags they were in. "I'll get it," Cas said, wiping his hands off on his pants. "It's probably Magnus, I need to talk to him about something before he comes up here. I'll be right back."

"The doorbell," Jace said suddenly as Castiel left. "Pardon?" Sam asked. Jace smirked and shook his head slightly. "That noise just before Cas left. That's what it was. The Institute version of a doorbell." He went to sit down beside Clary, kissing the top of her head as he came up beside her. Alec rolled his eyes. "Quit with the PDA already, would you?" he said. "Nobody needs to see that when they're eating, seriously."

Just then, Cas returned with Magnus in tow. The warlock, in turn, had someone with him, as well. She had grey eyes, and her brown hair was pulled into a bun held in place with barrettes and bobby pins with a few strands poking out. She looked about sixteen, but was tall for her age, and the heels of the brown boots she wore added a couple of inches, too. She had on jeans that were a sort of brownish-purple color with flower designs stitched near the hem of the legs, a purple button-down shirt under a dusky blue jacket, and a long, narrow green scarf was wrapped around her neck. As she pushed some loose strands of hair behind her ear, one of the iridescent black crystal heart earrings she had on got jostled a bit, making it turn in a way that made it reflect the light for a brief moment or so before it went still again.

"Everyone," Magnus said, "this is Rebecca Gray, one of my warlock friends. I've known dear Becca since Victorian times. She's American-born, but we were both living in London when we met." Clary studied Becca closely. She had the strangest feeling that she'd seen the girl somewhere before, but she couldn't place her finger on it. When Becca turned, her eyes landed on Alec, and for a moment, she seemed to freeze, but recovered quickly enough that Clary wasn't sure if it had really happened, or she had just imagined it.

"Magnus has been telling me about all of you lately," Becca said. Then her eyes landed on the Winchesters, and an odd smile spread across her face. "And you must be Castiel's boys. Which means that you must be Hope, right? Do we know if she's Nephilim, Downworlder...?"

"From what we can tell so far, we're leaning towards Sighted mundie, but we're not entirely certain yet," Jace said. Becca nodded. She turned to Hope and began heading towards her, moving as if she were approaching a wild rabbit, or a deer, perhaps, like she was trying not to frighten the other girl off. Hope, for her part, merely sat and watched Becca with that wide, perpetually innocent silvery-purple gaze of hers. Becca sat down next to her and smiled gently. "I kind of understand what you must be going through right now," she said. "When I first found out about Shadowhunters and Downworld and all that, it was because of the ability I have. I'm assuming since you're already acquainted with Magnus that you know about warlocks being half-demon, right?"  
Hope nodded, but didn't speak.

"Well," Becca said, "my father was—is—an Eidolon demon. They're shapeshifters, and because my father is one, I'm able to—Here, let me show you. Does anyone have something...personal? It doesn't have to be yours, necessarily, it could be something that was someone else's. Even if you just give me a strand of hair, I'll be able to make this work. Whatever you give me, you'll get it back, I promise. Anyone, anything, please?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and Sam shrugged. "I can go down and get our dad's journal out of my car," Dean offered. Becca seemed to hesitate for a moment before she sort of laughed and shook her head. "No," she said. "I appreciate the offer, but no, nothing that belonged to a man. I don't want any of my clothes to get ripped, which is a possibility if the person the object belonged to was or is bigger than me. Although turning into smaller people isn't always fun, either. Becoming Jessamine, wearing her dress, then turning back at that party..." Magnus laughed loudly and unexpectedly. Only Becca seemed unsurprised by it. "Oh, sweetheart!" Magnus cried. "That dress was _far_ too tight in the bosom! You were just spilling out of it all over the place, weren't you? Oh, thank you for that, I needed a good laugh!"

"As if it was mine or Jessie's fault that she was so much more small and petite than me!" Becca said quickly, her cheeks flaming as Jace howled with laughter, no doubt at the mental image that Magnus's words had given him. Clary rolled her eyes as she stood up. "I'll run down to my room and get the coat that Luke got me," she said. She paused for a moment and looked at Becca, then at herself. "I mean," she added, "I'm smaller than you are, so I hope that won't be a problem..." Becca looked the redhead up and down, then smiled and shook her head. "No, it shouldn't be," she said. "With Jessamine, it was really only a problem because of the difference in our...well..."

"Bosoms!" Magnus said gleefully, his cat eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. Clearly, he was having much more fun with this than he should've been.

Clary rolled her eyes. "I'll be right back," she said. After she had left, Becca's eyes landed on the sketchpad. Clary had been working on adding a few more little details to her drawing of Angel Jace while she ate her dinner, and she'd left the sketchpad open when she got up to go and get her coat. "Oh my God," Becca said. She moved around the counter to where Clary had been sitting to get a better look at the sketch. She looked at it for a moment, then at Jace, who was still sitting in his spot next to Clary's, happily eating his mu shu pork and not paying a bit of attention to anyone or anything else around him.

"This is you," Becca said. It took a moment for Jace to realize that he was being spoken to, and he looked up with a bit of pork hanging out of his mouth, which he quickly pulled in the rest of the way before he finished chewing, then swallowed and wiped his mouth off with a napkin. "Sorry, what?" he asked. Becca pointed to Clary's sketch. "This picture," she said, "it's of you, right? That's you with the angel wings and seraph blades?"

Jace looked at the picture and nodded. "Yeah," he said, "my girlfriend drew it. She's got a lot of pictures like that. Of me with angel wings, I mean. She says it's how I am in her dreams a lot of the time, so she's just drawing what she sees in her dreams. She also says that she just thinks it's a good look on me. But..."

He pulled the sketchbook towards himself and flipped back through a few pages."See?" he said, pointing to an image in the upper corner of a page that had several seemingly random pictures on it that had probably been drawn as practice sketches. The one that Jace had his finger on was of him, from the waist up, wearing a t-shirt that Clary had shaded in to make it a charcoal gray color. He was turned slightly to the side, and Marks were visible on his arms and peeking out from the collar of his shirt. His arms were crossed, he was smirking, and there was a pair of folded angel wings sprouting from his back that were only halfway finished.

Jace lifted his eyes, and the locked against Becca's, amber and grey. For a moment or so, they were frozen like that, then Jace flashed a small half-grin before returning his attention to his mu shu pork. In the next instant, Clary had returned carrying a somewhat old-fashioned looking coat made of green velvet. Becca quickly flipped the sketchbook back to the page with the image of Angel Jace gripping the seraph blades before moving to meet the redhead halfway. Clary held the coat out. "Here," she said. "It was a present from my mom's fiancé. He gave it to me before I went to Idris for the first time. Is that personal enough, or should I try to find something else?" Becca shook her head as she took the coat. "No, this will work just fine," she said. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I'll give it back as soon as I'm done with it."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then closed her eyes. She held the coat and seemed to concentrate on something intently. Then, as everyone watched, Magnus and Castiel the only ones without any confusion on their faces, something happened to Becca. It started out slow and gradual, almost to where it wasn't noticeable, but then it became more obvious. Starting at the roots, her brown hair began turning red. She got shorter, and her frame became smaller and more slight, which, combined with the change in height, made her clothes at lease a couple sizes or so too big for her. Portions of hair began escaping from her bun, tumbling down her back and framing her face, which now had freckles scattered about on it. When she opened her eyes, they were green.

There were two Clarys now.

* * *

**AN: YES, I SO TOTALLY BROUGHT TESSA INTO THIS! The reason she's going by Becca instead of her own name is because I would have a hard time writing that whole thing with her and Jace, I mean that would be INSANELY awkward, don't you think? Just imagine it:  
**

**Magnus: Oh, by the way, Jace, this is your great-great-great-grandmother, she was Will's wife, and she's the only known warlock who's half-Shadowhunter in the world, all the others were or are stillborn. Long story, tell ya later. Or better yet, let Tessa tell you! I'll just leave you two to get acquainted now, have fun, bye-bye! *leaves***

**Jace: ...  
Tessa: ...  
Jace: Sooo...  
Tessa: YYYYeeeeaaah...  
Me: *has no idea how to proceed from here***

**I decided on Becca as her alias because it sounds kind of like Tessa, so that way it's not too confusing for the readers (albeit you guys), and I saw no reason why she wouldn't/couldn't/shouldn't be able to use her maiden name, so she's going by Becca Gray. **

**At first I thought maybe Rebecca could be her middle name, but then I was like, "Wait...Theresa Rebecca...they both end with the same sound, so that would be a little weird, I'm not gonna do that." And then I was like, "Hey, maybe she had a friend named Rebecca at some point within the last 100+ years and she's just borrowing that friend's name for the time being!" **

**I figured it made sense that since Cas and Magnus are obviously in cahoots over this whole thing, it would only make sense that they've got Tessa in on it, too, especially since Hope has an ability that bad guys would want to use just like Tessa and her power to Change. It only made sense to me that they would recruit Tessa of all people to come help with this whole thing, don't you agree?**


	5. The Great Kitchen Face-Off

**AN: Okay, so remember how earlier, Magnus said that Dean and Jace would either get along great or "clash more than Raphael and Camille?" **

**This is where that really comes into play for the first time. Just let me warn you right now that Jace not only goes off on this REALLY long tirade over something that Dean says, but he also uses some pretty powerful language. **

**...Actually, come to think of it, so does Dean.**

**Anyway, extra points for anyone who finds the reference to the first book in the Heroes of Olympus series in here! I put it like almost right at the end of the chapter, and it's a reference to something that Leo Valdez said shortly after Piper McLean got claimed when Annabeth first brought them and Jason to Camp Half-Blood. There's your hint, now read the chapter and see if you can find it!**

* * *

There was dead silence for all of about sixty seconds.  
Then, the room exploded with noise as everyone began talking and shouting at once.

The Clary who had previously been Becca dropped the coat with no warning, stumbled back a step or two before Magnus caught her, and suddenly turned back into Rebecca Gray, which only renewed the noise. Jace's voice was debatably the loudest.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" he shouted. "WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?! HOW IN RAZIEL'S NAME DID THAT CHICK JUST TURN INTO MY GIRLFRIEND?!"

The lights flickered several times, causing another freak out, then everyone fell silent. "What just happened with the lights?" Sam demanded after a moment. Castiel raised a hand. "Guilty," he said. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as shoulders slumped and people fell back into their seats, letting their heads loll back and their bodies go limp. "Don't _do _that Cas!" Dean said. "Scare the shit out of us, ya son of a bitch! Thanks for the heart attack!"  
"_How did she turn into my girlfriend?!" _Jace shouted.

"It's called Change," Magnus said, being sure to emphasize the "ch" sound at the beginning to make it understood that the word was capitalized. To Becca, he said, "Here, let's get you sitting down." After helping her over to an empty seat at the island counter, he went and filled a glass up with water, then set it down in front of her. "She's able to do it because her father is a shapeshifting demon. Back in 1878, there was a mundane who had been adopted by two warlocks named Axel Mortmain. He called himself the Magister, and he not only made multiple attempts to kidnap Becca, but actually succeeded eventually. He was planning to marry her so he could use her powers for evil. Just like someone tried to kidnap Hope."

"That's why I'm here," Becca said after taking several gulps of water. "I know what she's going through with the whole thing about people wanting her power. Magnus and Castiel thought it would be helpful to have someone who's been through this sort of thing around, and Magnus immediately thought of me. They came to me, explained things, and I agreed with them, so here I am. God...I haven't Changed since the last fight with Mortmain. No wonder it drained me so much just now."

"Another similarity is that they both need an object belonging to the person they're trying to access," Castiel added. "Becca has to have something, so does Hope. While Hope can tell you the person's history, Becca not only physically becomes the person, but alive or dead, she's able to see into their mind, even if only bits and pieces. Isn't that right, Becca?"

Becca nodded. "It was how I learned about the death of one of the first people I ever Changed into. Emma Bayliss was fourteen. I was given her hair ribbon and told to Change. She went outside one night to sew under the gas street lamps and a man stabbed her to death. She was found dead in an alley by Wi—" She stopped herself suddenly, and Magnus put a hand on her shoulder. "...By a pair of Shadowhunter boys that Magnus and I knew."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean said. "Just...rewind for a minute here. Let me get this straight; your _dad _is a _shapeshifting demon?" _  
"That's what warlocks are, you dumbass," Jace said. "They're the infertile offspring of demons and mortals. The mother is usually the mortal. Don't you two know _anything _about the things you kill?" Dean's nostrils flared as he started, jerking up out of his seat and leaning over as if to grab Jace from across the counterspace between them, but Sam grabbed his jacket and held him back. "Cool it, man," Sam said, pulling his brother back down into his seat. To Jace, he said, "And you aren't exactly helping, either, Mr. Smartass."

"Told you he's arrogant," Clary said.  
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Jace announced. "Humility is for ugly people."

"Okay, _no," _Dean said. "Sam and I have dealt with shapeshifting demons before, alright? Okay, we both got arrested once on false charges on _me _of two murders, and one of those was done by a shapeshifting demon that had changed itself to look like me."  
"What about the other one?" Magnus asked.

"Killed by someone else. She'd claimed to see a ghost before her death, so we were investigating, and the cops came in while I was in the middle of checking out the corpse, total misunderstanding. But that's not the point here! Point is, we've dealt with shapeshifters, and...that...the idea of them..._reproducing _with mortals—or, hell, with _anyone _of _any _race!...How much more _absurd _could you possibly _get?! _You know what? Screw this, I'm done. I'm sorry, I'm out, I can't...this is just...Look, Cas, you know better'n anyone that Sam and I have seen some seriously crazy shit, but this whole...whatever it is that you've dragged us into, this tops all of it. I mean...Invisible churches, Super Soldier hunters with weird tattoos, chicks that magically know stuff about random people, chicks that actually _turn into _random people, fucking Adam Lambert in fucking Asian Mode or some shit, and with friggin' cat eyes to boot! Oh, and did I mention that apparently there's also a _vampire _who can _go into the fucking sun without getting burned?"_

"Hey, leave Simon out of this!" Clary said. "You haven't even met him, so don't pick on him!"  
"Oh, hey, and don't even get me _started _on that pretty boy boyfriend of hers! He's like what, seventeen? He's a _kid, _dammit, who the hell does he think he is to tell us that we're ignorant when _he _probably hasn't ever even seen a real Leviathan?!"

"Have you ever had to face _Agramon?!"_ Jace demanded, shoving his stool away from the island counter and going to stand right in front of Dean. "I have," he continued, looking straight into Dean's eyes. "The Greater Demon of Fear himself. The demon who has no physical form, he's nothing but a mass of...of black gas, but only at first. He takes on a different form for each individual. He takes the form of that person's greatest fear, and the...the sheer terror of it...that's what kills you. You _literally _die of fear. Yes, I'm seventeen, but I am one of the _greatest _warriors that my generation of Nephilim has to offer. You think that just because you're older, you know more about this than I do? You think that it automatically means you know more than I do about everything, that you've experienced it all and I haven't, I've only read about them in books and seen the illustrations, is that it? Well just let me tell you something, Dean Winchester.

"At seventeen years old, I have not only faced Agramon and lived to tell about it, but I have also been controlled by Lilith herself through a form of possession that didn't require her to even be inside my body. The man who raised me taught me that to love is to destroy, and that to be the one loved is to be destroyed, and he broke the neck of the falcon that _he _gave me to get that point across, after all the time and effort I had put into taming that damn bird! Right in front of my eyes, and I was only a child!

"I was thrown out of this place once, the only home I'd had since I was ten, how do you think that made me feel?! I was jailed, had to spend an entire night by myself in a cell in an underground city, a necropolis where the only living beings were men with shaved heads and whose mouths had been sewn shut, and some of them even without eyes, men who speak telepathically, and while I was there, every single one of them was slaughtered. I had to endure the belief that the girl I love was my _sister, _my own flesh-and-blood, and do you have _any _idea how painful it was that I couldn't be with her?! We both thought that having that sort of relationship would be...disgusting and wrong and...

"There was time that I thought I had demon blood in me. To think that...there was a part of me that was the very thing I was trained to kill, it...I couldn't stand it. And then...then, the man who raised me, who I thought was my father..._killed _me. I would not be here right now if it wasn't for the fact that Clary wrote her name over Valentine's and asked Raziel to bring me back. Out of all the things...She could've asked for world hunger to end, or a cure for cancer, or the end of terrorism, hell, she could've even asked for a fucking _unicorn _to keep as a pet if she wanted, but no. No, instead, she asked for _me. _And how did I repay her? I turned around and got myself possessed by Lilith, then went and joined up with her evil brother and nearly—"

"None of that was your fault, Jace!" Clary yelled, grabbing the back of his shirt and turning him around to face her. "That was _nobody's _fault! How were you, or me, or anyone else...How were we supposed to know what would—what _could _happen?"

Jace was barely paying attention, though; he was so focused on shooting Dean one of the most frightening death glares in the history of mankind. "Go face Agramon," he said in a low voice, "live to tell about it, and _then _come talk to me about _experience. _Because until you've had to go through what I did, you know _nothing _of the true horrors that this job comes with. Face him, come back alive, and then, maybe, _just maybe, _we can talk. Until that happens, you had better stay the fuck out of my way and try not to piss me off, you got that, Winchester?"

He turned and began heading for the door, but stopped and spun back around before he reached it. "Oh, and one more thing? If you're so damn hell-bent on leaving, the get the fuck out already, and don't ever let me see you on this side of the fence again, or by the Angel, I will do _unspeakable _things that will leave you completely unable to hunt or fight anything, understand?" Once again, her began heading for the door. "Get back here and fight like a man, you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted. Jace didn't even glance over his shoulder; the only indication that he'd heard Dean at all was the middle finger he displayed on his way out of the kitchen.

And that was when Isabelle returned.

"Hey, guys!" she said as she came in. "Wow, okay, so I just had what was possibly _the _best blackberry cobbler in the entire history of history, lemme tell ya. Oh, and Clary, Simon wanted me to tell you that his band is renaming itself again, he asked me to get your opinion on 'The Flaming Wombats,' and he also said to be sure I told you it was Eric's idea, not his, but you know, whatevs. So, anyway, what'd I miss?"

* * *

**AN: New word, boys and girls! Can you say "drama?!" 8D**

**But, anyway, yeah. I don't own anything, blah blah blah, Hope is mine but that's it, blah blah blah, you know the drill.**


End file.
